Thorns
by CampionSayn
Summary: In honor of Abraxas aka Ren's fic Citrus Taste Transformers Works- ch. 3. After all, imitation is the finest form of flattery. Sureshock/Alexis, AU one-shot.


Title: Thorns  
>Summary: In honor of Abraxas aka Ren's fic <strong>Citrus Taste Transformers Works<strong>- ch. 3. After all, imitation is the finest form of flattery. Sureshock/Alexis, AU one-shot.  
>Warnings: Botanthro human romance. In a fantasy setting. Pure erotica ahead. Set in Armada-esque plain of existence. You have been warned. Also, I wrote this, like, a year and a half ago and it just sat accumulating dust, so yeah, you've been warned. And this is a completed work, so do not ask for an up-date. Ever. This was originally supposed to be the first chapter to Seven Kingdoms, but, obviously, I changed my mind; very much so.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Please don't sue me for this…<p>

=3-=3-=3-

…To the North, three lone scouts moved slowly though the fog covered mountains. Sent were the great, aged Scavenger, the quiet, shadowed Blurr and the small, timid Sureshock. Into the last place they wanted to go. The herd hadn't been near this land of dead trees, thick mists and fierce beasts in years.

Their Prime had sent these three specifically because he had scented something… strange, on the wind. It wasn't likely to be anything they could use, but it was worth checking and these three had taken an advanced course for that very purpose.

The elder, bone faced male sniffed, flinching. The enemy of their herd was nearby, he could feel it, but so was the reason they had come. A sweet scent where there should be none, over one more hill.

Climbing the ridge, Blurr raised his right fist, the other two pausing at the command. Tracking forward, the blue male could see what might be their calling. Grouped together in two's and three's, at least two dozen eyes of yellow jasmine and white clematis stared back at the intruder. Their pelts of snow white and sun gold bristling. Wolves already in bloom.

Making a subtle call over his shoulder, the scout listened intently for his other scouts to come forward, both very aware that the deep undertone in Blurr's vocals meant something was wrong, but he was unsure just what, yet. The eldest looked over the annoyed flora, the orange little one clutching the Supplies to his chest. They were awake, this wasn't right.

Moving further downwards, the three stayed alert, fight or flight, in the face of these claimed ones.

From a ways forth, all of them heard foot-steps. Heavy, obviously leaving imprints upon the soil that hadn't soaked in rain in weeks. The keeper of this garden. Or _keepers_, if the scouts were unlucky.

The trees broke under the weight of the other beings' force as two of them broke into the clearing. Snarling in rage at the sight of those that had traipsed into their territory, a massive Demolisher and an even more impressive Tidal Wave. Their presence was enough proof that, indeed, the flora here were not what the scouts were looking for.

The smaller of the two keepers' mouths was gaping wide, clearly showing his sharp dentals, his optics of green glaring. Tidal Wave moved to block the flattened eared fuzz balls from the scouts' line of vision. If the three were confused before, they most definitely weren't at this message, 'Taken. Leave Now.'

Canting their heads submissively, the three moved to go back. Disappointed, but not defeated. Scavenger had been instructed by the Prime to search for a sweet, _weak_scent. These ones were more than fragrant. He wanted very much to find that weak scent again. It was around somewhere, and the enemy hadn't found it, or they would still be using it. Not protecting these whites and golds.

Playing pathetic, all three bolted off, away from the other two, towards the thicker trees. The smallest, taking six steps for the every one of the elder beings. The foliage was getting more wild, untouched, denser. It made the going hard for Sureshock, but he kept up, as he was trained to do.

Mist hovered around their ankles, chilling them. No sound. But, the blue one had found the scent, picking up Sureshock to hasten their progress. The larger two could go no farther.

Before them, the trees had almost clenched together completely, sealed in nettled vines. The barbs shaper than most. They actually hurt the solid metallic skin of the pumpkin born.

Looking to the elders once more, the carrier got confirmation they'd be ready to help if need be. Their left hands clicking with motions, fingers tapping out words and symbols upon their palms. They'd stand watch.

His own fingers giving similar clicks, Sureshock leapt from the blue male's large figure, the speed allowing a little help to carve the way. Unforgiving needles fighting his trek. A secret in the center.

Minutes passed, he was in a softer form of pain, but the scent was so much closer. Almost could taste the nectar, not knowing what the taste was. His other members of his herd had gotten their taste, their flowers all beautiful and willing. This would be his first.

Thoughts stilled, his foot touched soft, soft warmth.

Lifting his foot, optics looked down, the flower was asleep. It was bloody brown, curled into itself, its own sweetness leaving its body as thorns stabbed it. Holding it down, like a lowly prisoner, half its body covered completely.

It was gorgeous. A broken rose, still living, another wolf, still a sight to behold.

Knees planted to the ground, the orange male started the process. Vines were carefully ripped away, hands kneading into sticky fur, flecks of blood removed. His fingers cool against the heat, waking it with the greatest of care, probing, prodding, caressing. So perfect.

Movement. Stiff muscles flexing, the tail slowly winding like a stem, ears brushing up. It was alert more than a moment ago. One, then both eyes completely open and looked up and into him, like deciphering his soul in a glance. Teal, like the finest leaves ever grown from the earth blinking in the grayed light.

A soft rumble sounded in its throat, it almost seemed like it knew it could get hurt much worse. Sureshock was sure it had been through a lot, already. After all, it was _here_, being stabbed he had no idea how long, by the unpleasant barbs.

Trying to give the rose some hope, the scout leaned against its neck fur, an attempt at snuffling, his own voice giving a warm cooing noise. It felt so nice, the fur tickling the rim of his optics. He hoped this lessened the tension. Courtship for pollination was hard enough without one of the partners being scared.

The act seemed to work, the rose's head tilting up, chops moving to an almost grin. Its paw lifted twice, invitation for more affection. The Supplies seemed appealing to its senses, though they were wrapped within a cloth stained with dirt and oil.

The scout kept his head down, but looked into the green eyes. Was this flower a male or female? Didn't matter to Sureshock, but it would be so nice to know. The scent was almost too mixed up to give away this little secret.

Lifting the brown paw again thrice more, it gave a yip, clear and crisp. Sureshock was alarmed when it turned onto its back, showing off completely clean fur and the answer to his question. A female bloody brown rose.

Oh, the glimmering sheen of her was almost too much to stand! Even the femmes of the herd didn't shine so wonderfully, so innocently. And she was offering so much to him, as if she'd give her soul to him in a blink.

Hesitantly, slowly, he brought both hands onto her torso, fingers roving over revealed bits of flesh. He could feel the bones making up her ribs. Much too dehydrated for his comfort, hadn't eaten in a long while… He could fix that.

One hand unfastening the seal holding the Supplies together, one hand still feeling what was offered, he moved all the objects into plain view, some of them eliciting approving pants from the now writhing female. Returning to her previous position, the awakened one sniffed over what was brought especially in her honor, offerings she could only accept if she gave something back in return. Somewhat daunting, young as she seemed to Sureshock.

Two small salmon freshly cooked, a bundle of sugar cane, crystal clear water in a jar, pure white and fresh milk in a vile and something divine and covered, in a bottle painted blue. All grand gifts, the likes of which she'd obviously never seen. Still, she was not positive if she could give what he needed back, her mind perhaps a little too troubled after just being brought into consciousness.

The scout didn't seem to mind. His nervousness was easy to recognize. His fingers were clicking, he had forgotten she could not understand the meaning. She was not part of a herd or even that pack from before. She had been alone, did not trust, maybe? If he scared this broken rose, started something too fast, she'd go right back to sleep and wait for another-

Sharp teeth, much like the thorns surrounding them, nipped into already tender flesh. Quick, precise, done. Red nectar spurted forth, sending the scout into the dizziness. Such a fragrance! His brothers were sure to have smelled it now; it was so rich, so rare, so intoxicating…

Still, he had to be sure. He raised his right hand, voice giving a questioning whine. This was a second language; he was not quite used to yet.

Answering with action, twisting like a wind was trying to whip her a thousand ways, her leafy fur resided, legs and arms spread and lengthened, snout pulled back into a nose, her skin shown completely. Ears stayed fuzzed, tail stuck out elegantly, eyes half lidded in pain. A true form giving a signal. Yes, she would give herself over to the one who dug her out from the nettle prison.

Sureshock was more than honored, he was enthralled. This rose was not so broken, after all…

Taking the hand sharp teeth had bitten, his face mask parted to show a small, half open mouth. Not really shaped for this venture, but it would do. The bleeding palm rested upon the mouth's rim, air warm as it sucked in every drop of sweet crimson. Optics shuttered off for a moment, the taste sending a chill through the orange frame. Teal eyes tightened, the sting causing shivers, a low, near silent whimper leaving pink lips.

The wound was clean, dry. The small scout did hear the sad noise, moving closer to the rose, metal heating to provide comfort, pale skin willingly sinking into the feel of it. Her little hands touch, touched the seams of his body, exploring, searching. His fingers started messaging her stomach again, her arms, her perked mounds of flesh, the blood brown locks atop her head.

The stem, her tail, weaved about his legs, brushing up then down along the grooves, her own blend of comfort. Mounting growls escaped them both, the male had touched that even more secret place. Sweeter nectar escaped from this beginning, coating metallic fingers. It was unbearably hot, smelled of something sweeter than the crimson and fresh. A sharp yip caused the pumpkin skin to halt entirely. Slower, much slower. The red nectar could be given at any time, but this beginning sweetness required special treatment.

Sureshock canted his head, weaving back and forth, a dance as it were, fingers tracing marks along the flower's pocked flesh, courtship and chivalry completely out in the open. Teal eyes like leaves closing, blood brown lashes touching, tickling the male as her own head canted against his face, his arms, his torso.

The bottle painted blue seemed necessary now, its divine inner workings becoming more apparent and the rose's stem swiped against it, the nettles crushing beneath its weight. Fuzzed, torn ears perked at the sound within the blue gift, sloshing something about inside. Teal eyes opened, bright optics lit to look at what would be needed for this courtship.

Metallic hands clasped the bottle, its radiance known to him, all his work would be for naught if the broken rose did not accept this most precious of gifts. The Prime himself had taken special care to have this made, rich and smooth moving honey enriched with pheromones and something to help with the pollination of this flower. If she completely accepted.

Tea leaves for eyes stared, expectant, as dark fingers worked open the bottle, blue paint chipping, cracking, falling under the pressure. The dead thorns concealed the shavings as they spread out, a blanket of strange tales for later blooms.

Completely open, the scout was tempted to take the first breath of scent the Prime had sent him with, but shook himself. It would be selfish, should he take the first breath. This belonged to the broken rose, for her happiness in pollination, for luck. Holding the carrier close to the nose that was much more aware than he, Sureshock offered the scent to his broken rose, her teal eyes weaving and shaking as receptors completely locked onto the smell.

It was unbelieving, better than anything scented before, all her nerves enraptured, twitching as the broken rose brought the bottle to her lips, tongue snaking about the rim. So wonderful, so new, so exotic! Tipping the whole bottle, she received a mouthful and swallowed it, the liquid heaven leaving an unearthly feel through her being. An almost-purr rumbled within the rose, her stem twisting around the pumpkin scout's torso, willing herself to become one with him, even before the act.

The scout accepted the bottle back, only taking a small trickle from within, his wires and metal buzzing as it touched everything within him. Like a drug, without the harm afterwards. His fellows had tried to tell him what this was like, but had barely grazed the truth of it all. Barely.

Shaking as the bottle touched the earth, standing aloft, its blue sheen glinting at them, the two resumed the dance, completely ready.

The male gave a husky, warm rumble in his throat, fingers grabbing a tuft of the dark blood brown on her head, feeling it slither about fingers. The broken rose answered back by touch, her own spindly fingers reaching for that metal plate that kept his stalk covered until moment like this. The action, for him, was highly exciting. His plate happily removed itself to another section of himself, revealing the instrument needed for this union. Its length was fairly impressive, its width no harm to her, the wires within him coiling to keep him warm and ready for the act.

But that was for another time. He needed her sweet, beginning nectar first.

She already knew her part and was quite ready to begin it. Nuzzling him once more, the broken rose swayed once, twice and then tilted completely back, her lithe spine against the earthen floor, her front facing the sky. An open invitation that the male more than happily accepted.

Raising himself to a crouching position, the scout stood with both feet planted beside both sides of her, one facing East, one facing West, his stalk facing North just above her stem. Lowering himself again, Sureshock's joints made light strained sounds, but he took no notice. His little metal hands brushed the smooth peaks upon both her mounds of flesh, feeling them harden and rose a smidge more, greeting him in their own way, an appreciative moan escaping the rose's lips. The brush turned into kneading, the right hand paying close attention to both, the left hand traveling down to that tender bud he had studied up on. It was always hidden, but he felt if he observed her reactions, he could find it much quicker.

He was right. Just below that thin layer of blood brown fur meant to protect the beginning sweetness, the fleshy, round bud responded immediately to his touch, wriggling under his finger, the rose herself yipping repeatedly, beyond happy that he took notice to one of her more important aspects. His finger felt her bud completely, traveling around its rim, occasionally vibrating to increase the feeling even more, the rest of her writhing frantically as a more pleasant reaction.

Her pleasure was important to him and he was going to make sure she felt the most of it when he began to take that scorching hot sweetness. Both hands rubbing her naval, the pumpkin skin bent completely down, facing her treasure, sweetness only just beginning to escape her. Careful beyond words, Sureshock spread her lips with one hand, tracing them lightly as he did such, the other hand continuing to play with the bud. Gently, he brought the whole of his face before her opening and without any warning, placed his mouth upon it, earning a surprised, delightful yip from the rose.

A wire that would serve to drain her fluid escaped his hole, feeling all of her and writhing on the way in, adding to her pleasure. That was the point after all, the more she enjoyed herself, the more sweet nectar he'd get. For the Prime, for the herd, for himself.

She panted and yipped more now, completely taken by the feelings he was bestowing upon her, the wire working into her like a spring as his fingers continued to give attention to her now fully swollen bud. He spun the wire in a full circle within, his odd mouth nipping at her lips, but not letting any of the sweetness escape. This was so nice, he thought for sure High Wire and Grindor were lying, but they were completely right.

With timid caution, both his hands lifted her rump into the air, her stem completely wrapping around his right arm, he increased his speed of the wire, slurping noises sounding with the action, though it was blotted out by the sounds the rose was making, bucking her hips into his face. She was so close to fulfilling this part of the act. The wire spun in the opposite motion, twice as fast and that was all that needed to happen. Her entire body went rigid and then her organs granted him the full, completely unhampered with nectar, boiling and so sweet. Sureshock collected every drop of it, the wire doing so as well from within.

The wolf rose went limp in his arms, glad when he placed her back upon the ground, making a light growl. A thank you for being so nice and gentle. She really hadn't expected such treatment, not out here, in this place reminiscent of a graveyard.

Panting, she gave the scout a sort of devious look, without any warning, grabbing his arms and pinning him to where she had laid, ready to do her part to repay him completely.

Sureshock struggled at first, but then she rested her forehead upon his helm, teal eyes staring at him kindly, her previously devious grin fading to one of timid pleading, a whine escaping her. Her ears even tilted back upon her head, submissive. If he didn't want this, she wouldn't do it.

The scout paused. This really wasn't part of his training, the flora usually if not always, simply disengaged and would be taken back to the herd at this point. No muss, no fuss. So, this behavior came as an unexpected surprise. Mutual courtship never really happened in his tribe. Well, High Wire got it, but he was almost supernaturally lucky. Sureshock, on the other hand never even expected to get a shot at mating. Hence, the advanced course as a way to pass the time.

And yet, here was this gorgeous rose asking him to let her reciprocate… What was the harm?

Leaning up, slow and steady, the scout bumped his head lightly against her, hard metal taking care not to press too hard. Yes, this could happen. Yes, she could do this.

A timid wisp of a smile lit her features, teal eyes dimming in gratitude. If she could help it, this would feel good for them both. Inexperienced as she was, instinct lingered in her blood to give her courage. Something that had not failed her as yet, and she hoped would serve for a long time to come.

Bending down as the scout touched back to the Earth the broken rose nuzzled the grey faceplate affectionately, her pink tongue peaked out from her lips to feel his mouth, his optics, the wires at the beginning of his neck. He tasted strange but in a good way, like her own red nectar without the sick feeling in-between. Teeth nipped delicately at a particularly thin wire, waves of warmth and vibrations of something from within being sent through Sureshock's frame, body going rigid.

Small, delicate fingers touched and travelled the imaginary roads that were the seams and edges of his body, rubbing here and there to add to the enjoyment. When reaching the stalk that lightly, timidly flexed at her touch, the rose's lips moved from Sureshock's faceplate, to the stalk itself. A small kiss touched the stalk's tip, the pumpkin born releasing a surprised rumble. Not a bad sound, considering the situation, just surprised.

Fingers moved and held the stalk, touching its warmth, feeling its texture, the rhythm that pulsed throughout the whole of it. She rubbed the coiled wires at the base, enjoying the scout's enjoyment, moans flooding from his vocal processor, followed soon by a sort of cry when the broken rose took the entire stalk into her. Her head and fur bobbed up and down, slowly at first, tasting. The bobbing increased, though, once she got the hang of it, his hips helping along, mind going numb at the pleasure.

It seems he got excited too quickly, the happiness too much as his own special liquid left the stalk and was sucked down her throat. A little moan left them both, feeling each other, having taken each other's fluids.

But, the broken rose had another surprise. She liked this male, she was under the impression he liked her as well. Not like the others, those massive, frightening ones she had escaped only to slumber, alone in this nettle prison. Yes, she would follow this one happily. But, not until she finished.

Lips administering one more kiss to the stalk, the rose moved back up, her stomach flat against his, enjoying the look on his face. Optics were half-lit, recovering from the overload. Oh, this was nothing like his friends said it was. It was so much better. He probably loved this little rose, dangerous as she might be, she was obviously caring. Leaning up again, his helm rubbed against her, she allowing him to kiss her. So sweet, they almost shared the same thought.

Still kissing, the bloody brown tail twisted about, moving back to his stalk, ceasing his kiss so he could gasp, the tail moved from stalk to those wires, twitching and finding a way in between and within him. Both growled in happiness, rubbing their fronts together. Sureshock, grateful, dazed, lifted from the earth, hugging his flower, the flower clutching him and ever so gently moving, her beginning resting on his stalk, and then encasing it.

They both kissed again, and began a different sort of dance. His part, thrusting up and down, deep inside the beginning, so hot, so perfect! Her part, perked flesh pressed against his chest, the center of each sensitive, one of his dark hands clutching the right, pinching the center, one of her hands at the stalk's base, with her tail, clutching and weaving through the now wet wires, so soft, so caring!

The rocking and thrusting increased, both the speed and the pleasure coursing entirely through them in silky, intoxicating waves. Both felt something beginning. The end was soon, both looking at the other adoringly, soul and body entwined and Sureshock's left hand reached the bud, three quick, sharp thrusts and rubs sending them both into a howl as the dance ended. Her beginning clutching his stalk and his stalk took what she gave, giving what she wanted.

When the howling and vibrations within subsided, they both hit the earth on their sides, still holding the other, her head under his chin. It was quite a sight, both glistening with perspiration, their warmth adding to the mist hanging in the air.

His intakes shuddered, his head leaving her head and giving a little yip to get her attention.

Her teal eyes met his yellow optics again, tired, but curious. Little sounds left his lips, her language strange in his voice, but able to understand. His name. _Sureshock._

A smile worked through her body and onto her lips. She knew she had forgotten something. Playing his game, words and letters she'd heard a long time ago spilled from her. His own language, clear and crisp in her voice. Her name. _Alexis._

They both liked the others' name tremendously. Strong and bold, ancient and new all at once. It said something, if they were willing to trust each other with their designation.

_Come back with me?_

Of course.

It was strange that the supplies he thought he'd need were to be left in that place, he'd offered to bring them back, carry them for her, but she said not to. Someone else would need it later, she was sure. Someone in need, or perhaps, themselves, if they ever chose to come back.

**Fin.**


End file.
